Kill On Sight
by ScaredOfDaDarkInLuvWithDaMoon
Summary: Velma; the harmless, squeamish bookworm... Not anymore. She's on her own and the only thing that keeps her going is her lack of emotion. Nothing is ever as it seems... Velma's account of what the gang was really like behind closed doors.
1. Life's a Bitch

I am alone; my only companion a talking dog. I remember when everything was fun, when my canine companion joked and cared only about stuffing his face with Shaggy.  
>Ah, Shaggy; what I wouldn't give to see him again. What I wouldn't give to hear his laugh, to see his goofy grin, to roll my eyes at his stupidity.<br>It was his stupidity that got him in the end – poor Shaggy, who ran into the water to save him-self from the fire. Poor Shaggy, who forgot about the water serpent; who got dragged to the bottom of the lake and never came back up, like he always did at the last minute…

Fred and Daphne went down together, as we all knew they would. The loss of Shaggy made them careless, zombie-like; they didn't even realise the werewolves were coming until their limbs started disappearing.  
>I still imagine I can see Daphne running past me, Fred reassuring her even as they took his arms. She wouldn't even stay with him until the end.<p>

I don't want to do this anymore; I can't, I wont continue on in this foolish charade. I've become so paranoid, it's ruining my already shredded life; I can't sleep for fear of dreaming, I can't eat for fear of poison.

Scooby doesn't even talk anymore, just growls at everything. Sometimes I think he doesn't even know me; it's almost like he's using me now only for shelter; he doesn't even need my protection anymore. Long gone are the days when Scooby would run away from danger. Now it seems almost like he goes looking for it, like he's trying to find something dangerous enough to put an end to his misery. Sometimes I think I catch myself doing the same. Sometimes I catch myself picking up a knife; and when I wake up again, I am bleeding.

I've become a monster; I no longer care whether what lays dead at my feet is a supernatural beast or a human corpse. I am alive, but I am dead inside; I feel no pain, no remorse, no joy. I know only the hollow ache of loneliness, that unbearable chill in my chest. I may be a monster; I may be an empty, murderous bitch; but I have known love and joy, and that makes me just as human as you. But beware – there is evil out there, and only a greater cruelty can defeat it.  
>I am that cruelty.<p> 


	2. My Sanity He's Gone

Shaggy had loved me. He would sometimes creep into my room late at night and ask to stay with me, because his nightmares were too much for him to handle alone that night.  
>No one knew that he had nightmares, no one but me. I'm not even sure what they were about, because I was always too scared that I might make him cry he seemed that fragile. Sometimes I wanted so bad to block my ears and shut my ears and sing at the top of my lungs when he came to me with his trembling lip and watering eyes. Seeing him like that – Shaggy, the strong one, the knight in disguise, <em>my <em>knight in disguise – seeing him that close to the edge almost made me loose my mind right there and then.  
>But I pulled back my sheets like always, I let him press himself against me and I allowed myself to be enveloped in his surprisingly, no, <em>frighteningly<em> strong arms.

I did get a few hints about what he was dreaming of every night though; Shaggy talked in his sleep sometimes, and one night, I remember him whimpering and begging to an invisible foe – 'No, please don't. Don't! You're hurting her! Stop, PLEASE!' His grip on me became so tight just then that when I woke up the next morning I had red marks across my chest and arms. I'm not sure whom he was dreaming of, but sometimes I wonder if he had dreamt of me, because the next morning was the first time he told me.  
>Shaggy said he loved me.<br>He started sleeping with me every night after that.

Isn't it funny how the things that you love the most always get taken off you first? I could have watched the world crumble around me if only I had him by my side every night. Even if he had cried, I don't think I would have cared, because after that night he was my everything.  
>I had never been attracted to men; had never thought of Shaggy as anything more than a friend, and even after that night nothing had changed. But suddenly I felt compelled to be with him at all times. Like, if I wasn't there, even for a moment, he might collapse, and I was the only one who could put him back together, the only one who could make him smile again. But then again, it might have been the other way around. Maybe I was the one who couldn't survive without him anymore.<p>

I had stopped wearing my jumper by then. Long gone were the days when I was the squeamish bookworm; my jumper had been replaced with an orange singlet, my book with a stake, and my squeamishness was slowly but surely melting into something scarily close to malice. But for some reason Shaggy still brought out the coward in me. I blushed when I looked at him and I stumbled over my words when we were alone.

And then he died. Just like that. Picture this – another day, another mission, another mystery to solve. There was a scuffle with one of the suspects in an old mansion, a candelabrum got knocked over and in the confusion no one picked it up. Mass panic ensues as the flames begin to grow out of control, and I became separated from Shaggy, only to see him bolt towards the lake out the back of the property to save himself from the blaze. A smart move in normal circumstances, but it appeared he had forgotten about the monster in the lake we were there to investigate in the first place.  
>Shaggy cried out in alarm when he remembered the monster, but it was too late; he was already being dragged to the bottom. Down, down, down he went, down into the dark, dreary depths of despair and forgotten souls. I found the biggest gun in the Mystery Machine and pumped round after round into the unrelenting water, knowing it was pointless, but I was so far gone by then that I didn't even care when Daphne and Freddie yanked the weapon out of my hands and pulled me towards the van, screaming for Shaggy, for my love, my life, my friend, my sanity.<p>

Scooby stopped talking after we lost Shaggy. He just sat in the corner, paws over his eyes, whimpering non-stop. I would have joined him, but Freddie made me sit on the couch like a civilized human being every time I tried to crawl away and curl up. It was almost like he was forcing me to be happy.

No one else understood our loss though; they made that perfectly clear when they came knocking on our door just days later, complaining of werewolves running rampant in a little town called Hellview. Well of course we packed our gear and headed up there straight away, with no plan, the death of Shaggy still weighing heavily on our minds. Numbly accepting their pathetic plea for help was the second greatest regret of my life.


	3. Pretty Little Liar

Daphne decided she hated me from the very first time she laid eyes on me. It must have been quite a shock for her, leaving her perfectly manicured world for one hidden in the shadows, where everything was kept under wraps, giving her no chance to shine like the star she was. Add to that world little old me, completely clad in orange, like 'a beacon for beasts everywhere' as Daphne so simply put it once; she must have regretted her decision to join almost immediately. But of course we all knew there was no turning back, so poor simpering Daphne had to just grit her pearl white teeth and deal with it.

That didn't make her hate me any less though; in fact I think it made her happy to have someone to taunt and tease, to poke and prod at like an animal in the zoo.  
>She seemed to change her mind after I ditched the jumper and the books though; maybe she was becoming scared of me, maybe she thought I was becoming 'cool' enough to be considered her friend, who knows? Who cares? I hated her; I hate her, I HATE HER.<br>If she saw me now she would probably plaster on that sickly sweet smile she saves only for the most important occasions, bat her eyelashes and try to win me over with that cutesy voice that worked so well on everyone else.  
>Unfortunately for her, I'm so fucked up now that I'd probably end up blasting a hole right between her pretty little eyes.<p>

I hated her eyes. Those eyes could go from warm as honey to cold as ice as soon as they landed on me. No one else ever seemed to notice, but of course I did, and it sent a shiver down my spine every time. Sometimes I used to dream of gouging out those green orbs, laughing as she screamed for mercy, begging for me to kill her. I would wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air like a dying fish, and scratch myself until my limbs were red and slippery and the shaking had stopped. Then it was my turn to crawl into bed with Shaggy and quiver against his side, like a child seeking protection from the monsters in the closet.  
>He never said a word, but from the first time I joined him, he made sure to keep a roll of bandages and cream by his bed, and before he would allow himself or me to become comfortable, he would check my body for wounds and tend to any that he found, no matter how small. He would kiss every scratch before wrapping it, and the feel of his lips on my skin made spiders crawl up and down my body all over again.<p>

The only reason I mourned when Daphne died was because Freddie went down with her, protecting her helpless ass like he always did, kissing her smooth skin and telling her everything would be all right, even as his legs were being devoured and chunks of him were disappearing by the second. Even as she threw him to the werewolves to save herself, even as she ran towards the van, not looking back once. And Freddie was still shouting at her to run, he was still screaming that he loved her between his cries of agony. Not once did she turn around and look back. Not _once _did she tell him that she loved him too, that she would stay with him, that everything would be alright. It disgusted me.

I remember pulling out my carving dagger from its holster against my hip, swinging it slowly in my right hand, reveling in the thought of what I was about to do. As Daphne ran past me, looking more pathetic than she ever had, tears dripping down her face and gasping for breathe like an ugly fish, I spun around, giggling childishly, my dagger cutting through the air with a sweet whistling sound. I dug my boot into the ground to stop my cycle, slid my dagger back into its holster and grinned manically when I heard the dull 'thunk' of Daphne's body hitting the ground.

When Scooby and I finally turned to go back to the van, my eyes landed on Daphne's head a few metres away. Too shaken up to drive, I slid against the side of the van and stared at Daphne's headless body. From the roof of the van Scooby howled his lament to the moon; a wordless cry of help for both of our souls.  
>I sometimes wonder if anyone heard him.<p> 


	4. Gone Away, Gone Forever

Freddie and I were friends from the beginning. Not together-forever-love-you-always friends, but we were close enough. He was forever determined to get me out into the world, to experience its joys and not just see the downside all the time, and I was always trying to get him to think a little slower, to see things more logically. He was the best leader any of us could have hoped for; forever optimistic and a pal to us all; we loved Freddie and looked up to him like a big brother.

But, just like the rest of us, Freddie dealt with his anguish in his own way. Because he was the leader, Freddie got the best room in HQ, a room that included a hidden side room. I only ever went in there once, after the rest of the gang had died, and that was only to see if I could find anything of use.  
>What I did find when I went in there, was a room completely empty, save five punching bags hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. At first I thought nothing of it, but when I got a closer look at the first punching bag, I noticed that Daphne's face was printed onto it; dried blood smeared the picture and the black material was worn down so thin that the inside was threatening to come out. As I moved along the line, I saw that there was a punching bag for Scooby, Shaggy and me, and even one for Freddie himself. Each was smeared with blood and beaten paper-thin. The floor was spotted with red too; scrabbling finger marks and splashes of what I could only assume to be Freddie's blood covered the concrete floor like a sick gothic pattern.<br>Looking at those faces on the bags, just hanging there like that, something snapped in me again. I screeched like a banshee and flung myself at the laughing faces, clawing at each one like a wild animal until they lay in shreds at my feet. My rasping breath slowly turned into gut-wrenching sobs and for the first time since the death of my gang I crumpled to the floor and let myself moan and howl. My body lifted up with each shuddering cry and after a while I felt something on my shoulder. In my delusional state I thought for a moment that it might have been Shaggy, and I flung my head around to see Scooby standing above me his eyes sympathetic and his whole body quivering with held-in despair.

We were the only two left now. Out of the five of us I don't think I would ever have imagined that Scooby and I would be the last alive. I think Scooby felt the same way, but he had seen what I had done to Daphne; he had seen the way my blood turned cold and my expression merciless as I hacked away at the werewolves afterward, determined to take at least a little bit of Freddie back with me to give him a proper funeral. Unfortunately, I blacked out after slicing through the first beast's neck, so when I woke again, I had no memory of anything. But I knew that I had won, because werewolf bodies –insides and out – were strewn everywhere around me, and Freddie's mutilated corpse lay behind me, missing a few vital parts but still intact for the most part. Doing my best to ignore the disgusting smell of rotting flesh and coppery blood I had hoisted Freddie up onto my shoulders and dumped him as gently as possible into the back of our van before closing the door and sliding down the side, completely silent on the outside, but screaming in my mind as I died slowly and incredibly painfully from the inside out.

When the mayor found out what had happened, he was deeply sorry – probably because he would have to go to the trouble of finding a new team more than anything – and insisted that Scooby and I be put into rehabilitation immediately. Neither of us wanted that however, me especially. I didn't want to have to talk about my 'problems' and be examined and tested on like some stupid lab rat. So I did what every coward does best - I ran away. I ran away with my tail between my legs, Scooby Doo in tow.  
>I don't think we'll ever stop running. And honestly, I'm not too sure I want to.<p> 


	5. Welcome To My Nightmare

_It's dark. And no one can see, not even me.  
>I am alone, not a soul in sight: my worst fear, come to life.<br>My family has left me, my closest friends too.  
>I shiver with horror, unsure of what to do.<br>I take a step and find myself lost in a labyrinth of streets and stones, sweat and spit, blood and bones.  
>Ghosts are prowling everywhere; I cannot see them, but they're still there.<br>Will I ever escape this horrid nightmare?  
>It's hard to say – I was quite happy just yesterday.<br>I cannot wait until I wake; this dreadful feeling is hard to shake.  
>At least no one can see my tears, the ones I shed for my dark fears.<em>  
><em>I'm left for dead but still alive.<br>Monsters of the dark, from this they thrive.  
>Turn the corner what do I see?<br>Another empty road beckoning to me with icy fingers and frosty breathe.  
>Say goodbye to the pretty lady with the rosy cheeks because she is off to the slaughterhouse now.<br>Succumb to the feeling and let myself down until I wake up to a new day, a bright new day full of people so I can pretend to like being with them, so I can pretend that I like being awake, where none of my nightmares and dreams invade my fragile mind because the demons of the daylight chase them away;  
>I love my friends but they invade my thoughts and cloud my feelings when all I want is o go to sleep, where no one disturbs me and I can be alone with my fears and the beast of the dark devour my soul and welcome me with open arms, with red eyes and toothy grins that murmur –<br>"Come home child, come home."_


End file.
